


My Favorite Holding Period is Forever

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: Finance Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Businessmen, M/M, Suit Kink, personal assistant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is the hassled, yet eerily efficient assistant to Jensen Ackles who, let's face it, is ALL THAT (and a bag of chips).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Office

**1.**

_“Jared, I need you to run down to the café. Get me another Jamaican roast and make sure they brew a fresh pot. The last one you bought was foul.”_

Amber smiles at him sympathetically as he clicks the intercom.

“No problem, Mr. Ackles. I’ll have it for you in a few minutes.”

_“Good, I need it before my conference call in fifteen minutes. I don’t want to be disturbed after that.”_

“Leaving now, sir.”

Jared jumps up and grabs his coat and gloves, unwilling to go without either on a Chicago winter day.

“Just leave them,” Amber calls over, probably glad she’s not being sent outside. “You’ll have to run to make it in time.”

“He’s not worth frostbite, you know.”

“Whatever,” she drones, turning back to her work. “Just means I’ll get your job when he fires you.”

“You say that every day.”

“Someday it’ll happen.” She doesn’t look up as Jared walks out of the office, grateful that he catches the elevator quickly. Stairs are _not_ his thing. Not from the tenth floor, anyway.

He’s used to Amber’s taunts and teases by now. She’s fierce, he knows, and would be more than happy to get the benefits of Jared’s position. Higher pay, better desk, and more respect – from everyone except their boss, of course – all sounded appealing. But he’d caught relief in her eyes more than once as Jared was sent on errand after errand. The blonde bombshell had quite a temper, not to mention a high opinion of her value. It was not necessarily unwarranted; she’d hate the subordination Jared put up with, have to bite back her sarcasm all the time.

Dashing out of the building, Jared jaunts quickly to their favorite café, barely worried about his time constraint. The baristas know him well and can guess what Jared’ll be ordering this time of day. The cute brunette gives a wave before turning to make a new pot of coffee. He’s lucky Jeremy’s working – a little harmless flirting now and then and his unspoken order immediately becomes a priority. 

If Jensen Ackles only knew all the things Jared did for him.

He makes it back to the office with a few minutes to spare, even grabbed double-shots for Amber and himself, courtesy of Ackles Investing; they’ll both need the caffeine to counter the unavoidable two o’clock slump. As long as he’s got his coffee, Mr. Ackles won’t care. He'd probably approve if it meant his assistants weren’t taking naps at their desks all afternoon.

His boss doesn’t thank him for the piping hot Jamaican roast when it’s delivered, but simply nods in acknowledgment. Jared’s not expecting anything beyond that - he knows Jensen Ackles’ habits inside and out, more than he should. Walking out of the lavish office, he can hear the older man picking up his phone.

“Jared,” he stops in the doorway, smoky smooth voice halting him, and turns to find green eyes fixed on him.

“Sir?”

“This coffee is better, thank you.” The words and the sentiment are commonplace, but _normal_ has always sounded anything but coming from Jensen Ackles.

“I’m glad.” 

“Hopefully it keeps me awake for the teleconference with White’s office.”

Jared’s not uncomfortable but he’s worked for Ackles long enough to anticipate most of what’s thrown at him. This, though. This is weird. Jensen Ackles doesn’t do _small talk_. Well, certainly not in the office.

“Was there anything else you needed, Mr. Ackles?” 

Jared starts mentally kicking himself, because really, was that the _best_ he could think of?

“No,” and he’s glad to hear his boss left out the ‘thank you’. Hearing it twice in one conversation could only mean possession or psychosis. “But tell Miss Volakis that I looked over this month’s expense reports and remind her that I won’t compensate for her manicures. Nervous habits are her compulsion, not a consequence of work stress.”

The older man says it all with a straight face but there’s something _just there_ in the corner of his eye that Jared catches. _Holy shit_. If he didn’t swear to know his boss cold, he’d say Ackles was trying to be funny. He wants to joke back, see what would happen, but he can’t. Hell, the sky might fall if he tried.

“I’ll pass it on,” he says lamely and shuts the oak door behind him.

He feels Amber staring at him as he sits. “What’s with the deer-in-headlights look? Did he finally fire you?”

That brings him out of his sudden daze caused by Ackles’ Surprise Display of Personality. Because there’s no way in hell he’d _ever_ get fired. Amber doesn’t know that though, and it’s hilarious to keep her hopes up.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I still have my job," Jared pops the tab on his Double Shot. "But you might want to stop charging your spa days to the company."

"Those were legitimate expenses!"

"You can take it up with Mr. Ackles if you want," he doesn't look over, instead checking his agenda for the rest of the afternoon. "Or just buy some hand lotion and stop biting your nails."

He knows Amber flips him off without seeing it. His afternoon's wide open thankfully, only a few memos to send out and calls to make before the day ends. And there, highlighted in blue on his Outlook agenda, the 'date' he'd added yesterday morning and hadn't been able to get out of his head.

_Dinner. Meritage. 7:30._

"It's not fair," Amber's muttering. "A lot of your expenses are comped."

"They're actually related to business," Jared responds flatly, eyes on the blue box. "And I get approval first." He mouths _whatever_ as he hears Amber say it. So predictable.

The memos and calls are out of the way in no time and with nothing to occupy it, Jared's mind wanders. It's one of the reasons he doesn't mind the myriad tasks Mr. Ackles sets him to. As well as he knows his boss, he's pretty sure Mr. Ackles - _Jensen_ \- is just as familiar with him, realizes how he works best. When he has time to think, Jensen Ackles is always at the center of his thoughts.

And not just because the man's _gorgeous_. That part is obvious, and while daydreaming about the physical perfection his boss embodies is wholly acceptable away from the office, he likes to concentrate on Jensen Ackles _the man_.

Nearly three years he's worked here, going from unknown legal clerk to personal assistant for one of Chicago's premier finance experts. The job fits like nothing he ever studied or expected. His economic and law degrees had prepared him for something altogether different, but once he met Mr. Ackles, his focus had shifted. He'd been captivated by the calm and powerful man, saw something he wanted to achieve and emulate. The older man gave him that chance, looked past the monotonous work Jared had been given. Jared likes to think he'd seen future potential; Jensen Ackles was certainly smart enough to know where his employees would be most useful. Despite what Amber and others thought, Jared had no regrets and couldn't fathom why he would.

Someday they'd know; they'd realize the opportunity he'd been given. Just not today.

Today, he could relax until the conference call finished and then, as the highlighted agenda reminded him, it would finally be _tonight_.

***

Two hours later, the conference call wraps up, sending Jared and Amber back into work-mode. Mr. Ackles emerges from his office and drops a folder onto Jared's desk.

"Jared, fax these over to White's attorney's office. He requested them during the call."

Fifteen minutes later, fax sent and logged, the intercom buzzes.

_"I need the prospectus on the Millers’ accounts. Organize it for me so that it's ready for their appointment in the morning."_

The requests continue well into the afternoon and early evening.

_"I skipped lunch. Order me a tuna and sprouts from Mustard Seed and pick it up."_

_"Bring in the reports from the Cornell acquisitions you printed out."_

_"Contact Bernadette Nelson and see if you can switch our meeting to Wednesday instead of Tuesday."_

_"Call my country club and schedule a round of golf for Mr. Templeton and me on Sunday morning."_

Jared's in his zone of 'listen and follow through' when the last request stops him. He stares at the intercom and goes through the facts in his head. His boss's Sundays have always been "reserved". No meetings - not even casual appointments. He doesn't take calls and barely leaves his townhouse - uses the day to unwind and escape, the same way Jared does. Plus, Ackles _hates_ golf.

"A round of golf?" He has to question it and figures Ackles can hear the speculation even over the line.

_"Was I speaking Spanish?"_

"No, just double checking," he covers. "Sunday morning, you said?"

There's a moment's pause before the line picks up again.

_"On second thought, don't schedule it. Phone Templeton and set up a meeting for Monday morning."_

Jared's stumped as he turns off the intercom. The dilemma's moot now but it's not like Ackles to change his habits without Jared noticing. Suddenly he remembers the earlier awkward and subtle tries at humor. Was his boss still trying to mess with his head? The golf thing could easily have been an attempt to trip him up. If so, he passed, didn't he?

Fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his desk and Amber throws a crumpled up spreadsheet at his head.

He doesn't really want to ponder it. Jensen Ackles in a playful mood could mean a dozen things: Alien abduction, getting up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe the mayonnaise in his tuna had turned. It's all pushed to the back of Jared’s mind before he can obsess any further. There's only an hour to get through before he's done for the day. Dinner beckons, and he can forget all about countless errands and strange behavior.

At least, until tomorrow.

***

According to Jared's Blackberry, it's exactly 7:30 when he arrives at _Meritage_. A quick check with the maître’d and he's led to his table.

It's tucked in a corner, private and warm, exactly what would have been requested, and he can't help but smile at the man already seated.

_Jensen_ hasn't changed, still in the perfectly tailored Burberry suit and tie he'd worn at the office. He slides into the richly appointed booth, the older man mirroring his grin.

"You changed," Jensen reaches for him and here, in their isolated corner, he can lean into the touch.

"Had to, couldn't wear my cheap work suit on a date like this," Jared says before Jensen kisses him, soft and comfortable. It's the same kiss he's gotten after work for two years. Two years, today.

"Looks good," he hears against his lips when Jensen pulls away, his fingers lingering to skim down the fabric of Jared's new Prada shirt and sweater, the anniversary gift Jensen convinced him to buy for himself. "No one's been by to wait on us yet."

Jared smirks. "I called ahead and ordered the wine." Jensen shoots him a look. "It was my turn to pick. Knew you'd get here first and try to order so I told the manager to stay clear until I got here."

As he's finishing, the sharply dressed waiter arrives and delivers the bottle of Ferrari Carano Tresór Reserve he selected, praying that the reviews hadn't been bullshit. His wine selections never beat Jensen's, but he's learning. And with the way his day is going, maybe tonight he'll get lucky.

The wine is poured and tapas ordered, both men relaxed and casual. It's always been like this outside the office; there are no demands, no rules, just the ease and patience of the relationship they've built. Here, between work and home, they're equals. No posturing, just balance. Jared sits back, feels Jensen's deft fingers play with the collar of his shirt as they eat, smiles confidently when the older man compliments the red California blend.

They don't do this all the time - Jared's found he enjoys being a homebody as much as Jensen. But now and then, like tonight, they both appreciate a well-deserved night out. They can live a little richly, get it out of their system before escaping back to the townhouse and the best take-out Chicago has to offer.

Jensen pours the last of the wine when their plates are removed, filling Jared in on the pieces of his day Jared hadn't witnessed.

"The information you gave me on the Manhattan deal checked out," he's saying, swirling the wine in his glass. "You called that it would tank mid-negotiation. Glad you told me - saved some of our clients from a lot of hassle."

It always makes Jared's pulse stutter to hear 'our clients' from Jensen. The older man's been saying it for over a year, but it still awes him. No one in the office knows of their relationship - their _partnership_ \- not even Amber who's around them all day. Jensen shares his business with Jared and it floors him.

"So what was with you today?" Jared tries to cover the fact that he's probably blushing. "The chatting, the gratitude...the _golf_?"

Jensen chuckles, averting his eyes shyly.

"Just figured I'd make the day interesting."

"Golf?"

"I was bored, but I knew you'd catch it. Of course, Roger Templeton would probably be thrilled if I suddenly took up that worthless hobby."

Jensen's watching him laugh, waits for him to stop before continuing.

"Speaking of Roger, he's looking for someone to manage the foundation's endowment. It's a million dollar opportunity, if you want it. You're qualified, Jared. I won't bring it up on Monday, but you should call him."

"Thank you, Jensen," he's shocked that he doesn't stumble over the words, even if it's not the first time he's had to say them. "But I'm not ready yet."

"You are," Jensen answers quietly, confidently. "But it's all right. I understand."

And Jared knows, meeting Jensen's eyes, just how true that it. He looks around, the dinner crowd's thinned considerably and Jared suddenly wants to be home.

"Time to go?" Jensen queries, reading the look in Jared's eyes, and signals for the check when Jared nods.


	2. At Home

**2.**

For two years, Jensen's been able to have this. A year, and he's gotten to come home to it. Before Jared, he'd have scoffed at the suggestion of ending up with another man. There'd been something to the entire 'college experimentation' phase, but never a future. Never _this_. Men were great for sex - for getting off and walking away. It took Jared to show him that mistake.

He has everything he needs with the stunning younger man - his physical and intellectual equal, partner in almost everything.

Tonight was already amazing, the entire day filling him with a sense of peace. Of pride and love.

And their night was far from over.

Jensen watches Jared slip out of his Hilfiger coat, the one he refuses to get rid of, hanging it next to his own. He cuts a dashing figure in his new Prada - courtesy of Jared's impressive investments, less than half of which Jensen can take credit for - but he wants him out of it as soon as possible.

But that's not how this works.

"Bedroom," he hears, and follows Jared up the staircase, Brazilian cherry floors absorbing their footfalls.

No, as much as Jensen wants to rip the merino sweater from Jared's chest, throw him back and lose himself in the man who knows him better than himself, he can't. It's Jared's turn.

He waits, sitting on their bed as Jared strips off his sweater and wincing when the expensive garment is tossed aside. The shirt goes next, leaving his gorgeous partner bare above the waist. Jared turns and stares at him, but Jensen doesn't move a muscle yet.

"Stand up," Jared grabs onto his tie when he does, pulls him against his toned chest and begins a slow strip of Jensen's body. A strip-tease in reverse, really, since the younger man takes every opportunity to touch the skin that he exposes. Fingers trace his collarbone, palms warm his naked skin. His shirt, coat, and tie join Jared's on the floor.

There's a sudden stillness, Jared leaning over him, no contact between their bodies. Jensen wants...God, he wants _something_. Can't ask, doesn't want to, yet. He lifts his chin a fraction of an inch and sees Jared's eyes narrow before a strong hand slides up his neck to fist in his hair, yanking his head back. Faces pressed close, mouths open, Jensen hears his own harsh breathing, the only sound in the room. He can't wait anymore, whispers a barely audible _please_ into the space between them, and the younger man can't hold back.

Finally, _fuckingfinallyjesus_ , Jared kisses him. Soft lips forcefully coax his open. Jensen's patient, to a degree, but he'd much rather have action - tongues rubbing, teeth colliding, hands grasping - than silent appraisal, even though it's all part of the game.

And that's what this is, he manages to think with long arms wrapping around him, the coiled strength in those muscles more than enough to lift Jensen those last few inches until their mouths are perfectly aligned. Jared's lips envelop his, barely any air between. It's all a game.

The office is Jensen's domain. He's the boss, no questions asked. The house is Jared's. When he wants it, he leads, takes control. It's not about the control though, Jensen knows. Not about strength, payback, or power. Well, maybe a little. This is their balance. The circumstances of their relationship aren’t ideal, but this helps. Makes them fit that extra bit more.

His thoughts are halted when Jared pushes him back onto the bed, flipping him over before Jensen can even be startled. Cool sheets feel amazing on his skin, but Jared’s warmth at his back is better; he’d be lying if he said the fact that Jared’s larger and can completely cover him doesn’t turn him on that much more.

"God, you're gorgeous," Jared's muttering, mostly to himself, slight Texan drawl in the words. "Can't believe I get you like this." Jensen's not one to lack confidence; Jared's used words like 'gorgeous' too many times. He knows. He _believes_. Still, in Jared's low and sexy tone, it's no hardship to hear it again. Jared could be reciting tax law and Jensen would want to listen.

He can feel a tongue tracing over dips and ridges along his back, one wandering hand reaching beneath him to undo belt and button. Jensen's pants are swiftly removed in contrast to the drawn out divesting of shirt and jacket.

"Gonna make it good, Jensen."

"It's always good," he whispers back.

"Extra good, tonight's special," Jared says, pressing against Jensen's back, thankfully naked now.

"Mmmm, s'that right?"

Firm but gentle teeth nip at his shoulder blade for an answer, swipe of a long tongue the punctuation. A series of tender bites and kisses cover the expanse of his back. One of Jared's hands is placed next to Jensen's face for support, the other gripping Jensen's thigh. It's an easy reach for Jensen, shifting to lick and tongue the strong bones in Jared's hand and wrist.

"Jensen..." he's warned, but doesn't stop. Sometimes a little goading is necessary to keep Jared moving.

The hand is jerked out of reach and Jensen's hips are pulled up, bringing him to his elbows and knees. Before he can question, Jared's tongue is back on him, in him, and his mind is useless. He can almost _feel_ his blood rushing through his veins, flowing down to where large hands are spreading his ass.

"Jesus, Jared," he chokes, gives in to his body's need to rock into Jared's tongue and fingers.

"Yeah, just like that."

"Come on, I'm ready."

"No, I want you like this," Jared murmurs. "Gonna lick you until you fall apart around me." 

Then it's only Jensen's broken voice in the room, begging and sighing, Jared making good on his promise. He's nearly coming, shaking despite large hands trying to hold him, when Jared pulls away.

"You've gotta be kidding-" he whimpers, but is stopped by a light smack on his ass.

"Can't come yet, 'm not finished with you."

Jensen groans and tries to pull away but he’s pressed down – doesn’t need to look back to know the look in Jared’s eyes. His lover knows what he wants, couldn’t care less if Jensen wants to hurry the pace. He’s expecting tongue and is surprised to feel slippery fingers enter him, stretching his muscles slowly and surely. Jensen loves this feeling – long digits spreading him, preparing him – Jared’s hands can manipulate and inflame every nerve in his body.

Unfortunately, Jared doesn’t seem to be in any rush, languidly stroking deep within him and keeping him on edge. He doesn’t know how long Jared keeps him like that but his hands are the only thing preventing Jensen from collapsing.

“Jared…”

“What do you need?” It’s quiet, speculative, as if Jared doesn’t know exactly what Jensen needs.

“Anything…God, _anything_.”

Fingers continue to move inside him.

"Please. _Fuck_ , Jared...please." Despite Jensen's two hundred thousand dollar education, his vocabulary disappears during sex.

He can't help but sigh raggedly in relief when Jared pulls back, only seconds before Jensen feels the large cock entering him. Warm hands grip his shoulders as he's pulled back fully onto Jared, thankful that the young man knows he has to set the pace. If Jensen could move, it would be over too quickly. He wonders how Jared can thrust so smoothly, pace unhurried, possessing a patience Jensen lost at the first touch of tongue.

But apparently Jared can only last so long, Jensen thinks, as he's yanked backwards, kneeling with Jared's chest tightly pressed to his back. He's wrapped completely by the younger man - legs rubbing together, strong arms encircling his torso, hot breath at the back of his neck, and it all feels so _fucking amazing_.

Their bodies are bowed, Jared flexing and guiding, Jensen losing himself in the knowing and intimate play between them. He's nearly shocked out of their rhythm when Jared's palm wraps around his cock, stroking in time with the snap of Jared's hips. Jensen's pretty sure he's lost all powers of speech, can't even moan when Jared's low voice hums in his ear.

"Gonna come, Jensen? Don't hold back, come on...feel so _goddamn_ good," Jared's fingers tighten on his flesh and Jensen's just _done_. He comes, shaking and panting, while Jared doesn't even loosen his grip. 

And like so many times before, seeing and feeling Jensen fall apart sets Jared off, hips stuttering in his own release. Jensen's spent, but it still feels perfect - Jared coming inside him. They remain on their knees, arched backs with Jared supporting Jensen, as the tremors pass, passion abating and leaving pure fulfillment in its place.

Jensen waits for Jared to catch his breath before sliding forward, breaking their connection. His limbs are reluctant to take his weight and he falls onto the sheets away from Jared. The younger man's barely in better shape, but he manages to clean them both. Not with a shirt - Jared never forgot _that_ lesson – but with tissues from the nightstand. They lay peacefully for a few minutes until their breathing is slowed and even.

"Two years..." Jensen exhales, and smiles when Jared looks at him, cue for the younger man to reach out again, pulling him close and covering Jensen's mouth. 

Only under pain of death would Jensen _ever_ admit that this is his favorite part of _everything_. The two of them are never closer than in this moment - the day done, bodies fulfilled. There's just this kiss, both of them kissing each other like they've never kissed anyone else, and never will again. The urgency is gone, seduction over. Every stroke and touch is knowledge gained and used - the way Jensen's tongue reaches as deeply as possible while Jared's hands frame his face. How Jared's teeth run along and capture Jensen's bottom lips just as he pulls away.

Jared falls asleep first, sprawled on the left side of the bed. Jensen gets up, folding abandoned clothes and removing his contacts before settling next to the younger man.

He doesn't know if Jared's figured it out but this, the game they play and the control Jensen willingly gives up, is just another way to build Jared's confidence. It's subtle, private, but it's just as important. There's more to eliminating doubt than the business knowledge they share. Jensen believes Jared is capable of so much professionally and personally, in their relationship, but if this can help, Jensen's ready to relinquish everything, every time.

In the end it'll be worth it. As good as they are now, it will get better. Jared likes his job, excels at it - Jensen knows all the things Jared's done for him. But he's getting too complacent, too comfortable. The young man's talent is apparent, and he'll be amazing on his own.

For now, Jensen will keep silently pushing, loving and supporting, until his partner's ready to take his place at Jensen's level.

And when Jared Padalecki finally steps up, Chicago will never be the same.

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the second fic written to appease my Sharp Dressed Men kink. Not quite a PWP, but fairly close. More of a Porn-With-a-Point. Betaed by the lovely half_elf_lost who kills commas and tells me when the words I pick are downright "creepy". =) I bullshitted through all the finance speak, though it's all taken from things I've actually *heard*. Still, I made up the context. Amber is Amber Volakis of HOUSE, who I adored.


End file.
